Read Online Bella and the Beast by Olivia Drake - Free Book Online Page A

couldn’t take the risk of being turned away without an audience. Because you see, I would like to apply for the post of curator.”
    Miles’s jaw dropped. So that was her game. He had suspected from the start that she had an ulterior motive in calling on him. She’d been far too determined to prove her identity. He had expected her to play on her father’s connection to his family and beg for an artifact or two, something that she could sell for money on which to live.
    But this? Surely there could be no fate worse than hiring a talkative, meddlesome female who would distract him from his work. A woman who gazed at him with the biggest, bluest eyes he’d ever seen.
    Irked by that direct stare, he prowled back and forth. “I’m sorry, but Smithers misled you. There is no job of curator to fill. I’ve always worked alone.”
    She fell into step beside him. “Have you organized all these artifacts? Do you have a complete written description of every piece in the house? Have you made a copy of the symbols carved on each relic? Those are all tasks that I can accomplish on your behalf.”
    He hadn’t completed those chores and it would be useful to have them done—not that he intended to tell her so. “Don’t be ridiculous. Employing you is out of the question. What do you even know about Egyptian history?”
    â€œI know quite a lot about other ancient civilizations. That will give me a unique perspective. The rest I can learn.” She stopped pacing and folded her arms. “Besides, I acquired many useful skills while assisting my father at his work. I know how to keep catalogues. I can copy paperwork and organize your writings. And I promise to be as quiet as a mouse. You’ll hardly even know that I’m here. If it pleases you, I’ll work in a different room so that I won’t disturb you.”
    He bit back a harsh laugh. Bella Jones would disturb him all right. One look into those lapis lazuli eyes foretold trouble. He needed to eradicate the feel of her soft skin and shapely legs from his mind. His every instinct warned him to eject her from his house at once.
    And yet … he had not completed his investigation into Sir Seymour. Miles itched to question her further, to pursue additional information about her father. There might be some nugget of truth that could be coaxed from her memory, something that would close the door on that terrible night once and for all.
    Something that would ease the weight of his own guilt.
    Her hand came down on his sleeve, a light touch that jolted him nonetheless. “Please, Your Grace, I shall be the most dedicated servant on your staff. At least allow me a trial period of a fortnight in which I might prove myself—”
    â€œFine,” he growled, stepping back so that her hand dropped from his forearm. “A fortnight and then I’ll reassess your usefulness.” That ought to be time enough to find out what he needed—and then he would send her packing.
    Her lips curved into a pretty smile that lit up her face. “Thank you, sir. You won’t be sorry, truly you won’t.”
    He was already sorry. Especially when his gaze dipped to the shadowed valley between the mounds of her breasts. “Run along and see Witheridge,” he said gruffly. “You can’t work while dressed like that. You’ll need the proper garb.” Hopefully, a drab costume that covered her up to the chin.
    â€œWitheridge?”
    â€œThe housekeeper.” He gave an impatient wave of his hand. “And don’t return to this chamber until tomorrow morning at nine sharp.”
    Miss Jones nodded and made a move to depart, then turned back. “Might I … stay here at Aylwin House? A small room in the servants’ quarters would be sufficient. It would be so much more convenient for working, you see.”
    She held her head high, and it struck Miles that she likely